


Hurry Down the Chimney Tonight

by Grevling



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 06:22:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grevling/pseuds/Grevling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A High School AU, in which there is a Christmas party, some hideous jumpers, and a remarkably juvenile note.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hurry Down the Chimney Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve got no idea how the UK school system works, you guys. Just go with it, please? This is the product of some jet lag and sleep deprivation, so…. be forewarned.
> 
> Prompt: based mostly on one particular image in [this photoset](http://derbydoom.tumblr.com/post/36841597909/mixmag-fashion-magazine-november-2008-teenage), and also on Christine’s prompt that I write something based on my tumblr icon.

Karen will forever blame it on that hideous jumper.

—————

She rushes up to him the moment she sees him come through the door, but stops short when she catches a glimpse of the lumpy, purplish pile of wool that seems to be attempting to masquerade as a jumper with a Christmas pudding knitted onto the front of it.

She pulls him over to the one still-unbroken lamp in the room so she can get a proper look at it, and if his eyes linger on the neckline of her dress as she pulls him along by the wrist, so be it. She’d known it was a good investment.

She drags him over to the wall and takes a step back to survey the damage before giving up. “MATT.” she shouts at him, gesturing at his torso, “WHAT _IS_ THAT?”

Matt shrugs helplessly, running his hand through his untidy hair as he tugs on the offending jumper, and mumbles something, but it’s buried under the shitty Christmas pop blaring through Lucy’s overtaxed speaker system and the sound of what seems to be their entire theatre class attempting to sing along.

“WHAT?” she shouts back.

He glares, and leans closer, his breath brushing past her ear as he yells “I THOUGHT WE HAD TO DRESS CHRISTMASSY, ALRIGHT?”

She pulls back, cheeks heating, to laugh at him a little too loudly, her hand leaping up to cover her smile.

“AT LEAST I’M NOT THE ONLY ONE,” he says, nodding at the rest of the room, and it’s regrettably true. Sophie, lurking over by the punch, is decked out in some red and green monstrosity that’s absolutely dripping with ribbons. Marcus, standing hopefully by the door, is sporting a headband that dangles a piece of mistletoe in front of his lips. Even Steve, their terrifying student director, is wearing no less than three pairs of fuzzy reindeer antlers in his curly hair.

…And of course Arthur’d come in some hideous light-up contraption with patterns of giraffes and Christmas trees on it, but that’s pretty much par for the course at this point.

Karen points all of these out to Matt, and toasts him with the wine she’s suddenly glad someone had snuck past Lucy’s (admittedly lax) parents as he leans one arm on her shoulder and helps her make jokes about everyone being desperate at Christmas.

By the time they start speculating about who Steve might be so desperate to impress with such a _gigantic rack_ ,she’s giggling so hard she can barely stand upright, and she’s blushing so hard she can feel the warmth in the tips of her ears.

She blames it on the wine.

—————-

Hours later, and after several invigorating rounds of “Fuzzy Duck,” the last of which had ended with Karen shouting “ _FUCK_ he does!” and downing the rest of her drink in one defiant gulp, she finds herself standing against the wall with Matt once more.

She snags a hat from where it was draped haphazardly across a sofa and perches it jauntily on her head, fuzzy brim tickling her eyebrows. She turns to Matt, neatly whacking him in the face with the fuzzy pompom at the end of the hat. “Matt, my boy!” she booms in her best St. Nick impersonation, “have you been good this year?” She attempts to throw in a belly-shaking laugh to go with impression, but mostly ends up spilling spiked punch all over the carpet instead.

Matt’s laughing almost too hard to play along, his own cup precarious seconds from joining hers on the carpet, but he manages to choke out “Oh, no, Santa, I’m afraid I’ve been rather,” he lets out a high-pitched giggle, “ _naughty_!” and then they’re both clutching each other and laughing and Karen fucking _snorts_ and Matt laughs so hard he spills his drink all down his pudding jumper and has to clutch the wall for support.

Karen drags herself upright and snags the edge of his jumper, shouting “Oh, no! You’ve ruined your glorious Christmas masterpiece whatever shall we _do_ ,” one hand flung dramatically over her eyes. Matt snorts and tries to shove her away, but she persists.

“Wait. Waitwaitwait. _Wait_ ,” she says, each syllable punctuated by a tug on the hem. “I know _exactly_ what we can with this,” and with that she’s pulling it upwards, attempting to push it up and over Matt’s head but his stupid gangly arms get in the way and then his stupid pointy chin and she suddenly realizes that he’s gone completely silent and she glances down and oh

_oh_

those are her hands on his chest. His very bare chest. And she glances further down and then right back up because that way lies madness except now she’s looking him in the eyes and he looks terrified and her brain just _blanks_ and she does the first thing that comes to mind.

Which is kiss him.

It’s awkward- her hands fisted in the jumper up around his armpits, his arms pinned to the wall behind him, but she still gets lost in it for a long moment, relishing the way his lips move against hers, and the warmth of his chest under her palms, and his gasp of air as he pulls away—

and she breaks off, panicked, and takes one look at his shocked face before running from the room.

She’s catching her breath on the bus home, one hand over her lips, when she realizes that she’s still wearing the damn Santa hat.

—————

The following Monday it’s miserable out during her walk to class- rainy and freezing- and she pretends like she isn’t secretly pleased to have a good reason to be grumpy as she tugs her coat closer. She avoids the voices she can hear in the theatre wing, not wanting to face Matt any sooner than she has to, and heads for her first class instead.

Her plans are thwarted when he slides into his customary seat next to her nearly the moment she sits down, grinning like nothing has changed. She ignores the fluttering in her stomach as she scowls down at her work, pen making angry lines across the page.

Moments later, a balled-up sheet of paper lands on her desk. She looks up, but Matt is staring studiously off into the distance, whistling, an absolute picture of innocence. She huffs and looks down at the paper she’s smoothed out between her hands.

Do you like me?

[ ] _yes_

[ ] _I think you’re a total fox_

[ ] _no_ —

She glances up at him for a second, shocked that he’d included it as an option in the first place. He waves her on—

_(ps if you pick this one you’re lying)_

She just _knows_ Matt is going to waggle his eyebrows at her the moment she glances up, but she can’t help grinning anyway as she ticks a box and scribbles a note in at the bottom before throwing it back. He catches it gleefully and unwraps it, his lips moving along with the words.

[✔] _you’re going to have to burn that jumper if you ever want a chance with me, mister_

His eyes sparkle and he mouths back _IT’S A DEAL._

And if anybody wants to know why she’s looking so happy on such a dreary day, it’s nobody’s business but her own.


End file.
